Renesmee did not cry, but she breathed in quick, startled pants. Her eyes were open, her expression so shocked it was almost funny. The little, perfectly round head was covered in a thick layer of matted, bloody curls. Her irises were a familiar - but astonishing - chocolate brown. Under the blood, her skin looked pale, a creamy ivory. All besides her cheeks, which flamed with color.

Her tiny face was absolutely perfect that it stunned me. She was even more beautiful than her father. Unbelievable. Impossible.

At three months, Renesmee could have been a big one-year-old, or a small two-year-old. She wasn’t shaped exactly like a toddler; she was leaner and more graceful, her proportions were more even, like an adult’s. Her bronze ringlets hung to her waist; I couldn’t bear to cut them, even if Alice would have allowed it. Renesmee could speak with flawless grammar and articulation, but she rarely bothered, preferring to simply show people what she wanted. She could not only walk but run and dance. She could even read


Renesmee was quite clear on the whole good vs. bad as it applied to hunting humans; she just thought that donated blood made a nice compromise. Human food filled her and it seemed compatible with her system, but she reacted to all varieties of solid food with the same martyred endurance I had once given cauliflower and lima beans. Animal blood was better than that, at least. She had a competitive nature, and the challenge of beating Jacob made her excited to hunt.

Renesmee nestled into my neck, her hand against my cheek but no images in my head. She didn’t have pictures for her feelings now.
“What if they don’t like me?” she whispered, and all our eyes flashed to her face.

She sighed, and in my head flashed pictures of all of us in one quick burst. Vampire, human, werewolf. She fit nowhere.
“You’re special, that’s not a bad thing.”
She shook her head in disagreement. She thought of our strained faces and said, “This is my fault

“Yes,” Renesmee answered in her trilling high soprano. All of Tanya’s family flinched at the sound of her voice except for Carmen. “But I can show you more than I can tell you.”

Renesmee shook her head but said nothing; unlike the rest of us, she found the Romanians strangely fascinating. She’d made the effort to speak to them aloud since they would not let her touch them

“I get to stay with you?” Nessie demanded.
“Forever,” I promised her.
We had forever. And Nessie was going to be fine and healthy and strong. Like the half-human Nahuel, in a hundred and fifty years she would still be young. And we would all be together

"I'm not dangerous at all. I never hurt Grandpa or Sue or Billy. I love humans. And wolf-people like my Jacob."

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